When The Dead Walk
by SharpFang
Summary: The Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix are trapped together in the Great Hall, with hundreds of undead swarming the grounds.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a continuation of sastath's Harry Potter and the Unexpected (found in the Harry Potter and World War Z crossover archive), by yours truly. This is my first time writing outside of the Warriors fandom, or writing a multi-chapter normal fic for that matter. The italics are sastath's, but I've edited the grammar a bit.**

_"Look out!" Harry screamed, but it was too late as a groaning corpse wandered in, grabbing hold of the witch and sinking its teeth into the witch's neck. She screamed in agony as it dragged her to the ground. Many curses and spells were fired to no effect till George in a fit of rage, most likely from Fred's death, stomped the creature's skull into mush._

_Harry's eyes widened, for the Dark Lord was not there, as he expected to be attacked when his back was turned. Voldemort was at the broken glass windows staring out. "How could you?" Fearing the worst._

_Harry rushed to the window and peered out standing next to Voldemort. The grounds seemed blanketed by hundreds of undead as they made their way slowly to Hogwarts. Occasionally the undead would stop to feast upon a fallen or wounded victim who was unfortunate enough to be left outside._

_"How could you?" Harry repeated._

_"These are not Inferi Harry Potter." Whispered Voldemort._

_"This is not of my doing."_

Transfiguration Professor Minerva McGonagall staggered to her feet, recovering her balance from the spell Voldemort used to blast Professor Slughorn, Kingsley Shacklebolt and her away. Instead of dueling Harry to the death, the pale, hairless man was looking out through the broken glass of the window, at whatever lay outside.

"What - why - we're calling a truce?" Minerva spluttered, speechless with disbelief at the scene unraveling before her eyes. Why had everyone stopped?

Harry turned slowly away from the window. "There's…something out there coming this way." He paused for a moment, as if not really believing what he had seen. "They…they _ate_ the dead people outside!" He yelled, his voice rising with disgust and fear.

Harry looked wearily at everyone in the ruins of what was once the Great Hall. They looked much worse for wear, sitting on the smashed pillars, huddling in their houses or families. Most of them sported noticeable wounds on them, disheveled and exhausted from the ordeal through the night. Ginny was sitting by George, defiantly glaring at the Dark Lord as she stood among other Gryffindors, her wand still in her hand.

His eye caught on the bloodied body of Lavender Brown, her throat and torso ravaged, eviscerated fully, her intestines shredded and laying beside her. A crystal ball lay silently by her killer, Fenrir Greyback, who was also laying motionlessly, above her spilled insides, a lump of flesh still hanging in his teeth, his own blood dripping from his throat, where a shard of crystal had pierced an artery.

"Get away!" Harry started at the familiar shriek of Hermione, and he strained to find her among the gaggle of tired students and corpses. He stiffened as he saw her, hiding her panic, her wand whipped out, pointing at a gray-skinned witch. Other students were backing away nervously, tugging at each other, tripping over bodies, skirting around pools of gore as they fled the scene.

Harry only managed a surprised "What?" when Hermione shrieked, "_Impedimenta_!" at the approaching witch. Her severed windpipe was hanging out the hole in her throat, blood already drying around the wound. Nobody could have survived that.

The reanimated witch wheezed and stumbled, tripping backward over a pillar and landing on her back. She struggled to her feet, shuffling forward again, wheezing and sticking her arms in front of her.

"_Stupefy_!" Hermione aimed her wand at the witch, sending a red jet into the middle of her chest and knocking her back over the same pillar. Her heels grated against the edge, the skin peeling off, but no blood appeared in the graying raw flesh. Harry stared at the witch, wondering if they were just another new mutation of Inferi. But surely Inferi could not simply turn each other by a simple bite?

The witch didn't seem to even notice the spell. She staggered to her feet, limping forward and wheezing again. A brief flash of panic flitted across Hermione's face, and was replaced with firm determination, her jaw set in anger as she realized the human part of the witch was now completely gone.

"A-a-av-_Avada Kedavra_." Hermione whispered, as if fearing the curse would cause an unspoken evil to fall onto her. Green light exploded out the tip of her wand, blasting into the witch's stomach. It folded over on impact, falling onto its fundaments but otherwise unharmed.

Kingsley yelled over the pandemonium, "Destroy the head, Hermione! _DESTROY ITS HEAD_!"

"I can't! There's no weapon!" Hermione shrieked back, her voice rising with unmistakable panic as the not-quite-dead witch inched closer. She frantically scrambled over the dead body of Bellatrix Lestrange and shot an impediment jinx at her pursuer.

Ron, who was helping Oliver nurse his wound, looked up. "Have you gone mad? Use your _wand_! Blast its head off!"

As if snapping out of a nightmare, Hermione seemed to have woken up. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and straightened up. In one fluid motion, her wand hand shot up, the tip pointing between the blank eyes of the shambling witch, and she whispered, "_Confringo_."

A white flash shot from her wand to the witch's head, and the sheer force of the spell blasted the now fully dead witch's head completely off her neck, obliterated into a mass of shattered bone, black sludge-like substance and greenish-gray flesh.

McGonagall aimed her wand at the open door and quickly locked it with a nonverbal _Colloportus. _With the help of Kingsley and Harry, she quickly gathered the bodies of the dead into a large pile in the middle of the room. With an almost mechanical efficiency and indifference, she cleared away all the gore in the hall, including the black substance on George's shoes.

"I know some of you might not like this, but we'll have to clean the bodies out as we'll have to live in here for Merlin knows how long." Harry started as McGonagall stepped up to what was once Dumbledore's seat and spoke.

Many protests rose from the gathered crowd. Dennis Creevey was yelling about his brother, the Weasleys gathering protectively around Fred's body while many others also inched toward the corpses of their former friends and family.

Voldemort turned from the window. "Do you think keeping their rotting corpses will make a difference? They're already dead," he hissed, "and they'll just make us all sick with the diseases from the rot."

The non-Death Eaters stared at him, defiance shining in their eyes. He noticed the Malfoys and Goyles were now standing beside Potter and his stooges. _Perhaps you wouldn't be so eager to suck up to them when Potter cowers under your robes and makes you die for him._ Voldemort chuckled as he imagined the look of shock upon their faces.

After all, emotions made people weak and too soft, and he did not need any foolish, bleeding-hearted weakling foiling his grand plans.

He raised the elder wand, admiring its power. _Whatever Potter says, this wand's power will belong to only me._

At once, dozens of wands aimed at him, including saint Potter's. But he ignored them. After all, the Elder Wand was his.

"_Incendio_!" He shouted, making sure everyone heard him. A cruel smile twisted the corners of his mouth upwards as the faces of everyone around him froze with shocked rage.

The pile of those who had died, either for him or against him, erupted in flames.

* * *

><p>Harry simply could not believe what Voldemort had done. Even as clothing turned into coal and dead skin bubbled, he could not believe that the sadistic dark wizard had simply disposed of the bodies with such cruel indifference.<p>

The magically locked doors of the Great Hall rattled, interrupting the two of them as they attempted to see into each other's minds. They whipped around, then relaxed as they realized the undead _things_ could not get in by force.

Harry walked toward the students, teachers and the Order. He gave a curt nod to Malfoy, while Goyle clumsily attempted to shake Harry's hand, making him wince as his fingers were probably crushed into dust.

Hermione was busy tending to a burn on a sixth-year Hufflepuff girl's hand, where a nasty jinx probably had grazed it. Ron was conjuring water onto a towel, then pressing it onto Oliver's forehead, while Katie Bell summoned another roll of bandages that dressed themselves onto the bite on Oliver's shoulder.

Viktor Krum was helping a young girl, who was probably in shock, to her feet, while the Weasleys were checking if everyone was there. Harry went to Ron, who was getting more agitated by the minute. Harry didn't know much about healing, but Wood seemed to be getting worse. He was bleeding out and with a fever, that's for sure.

Ron spoke before Harry could even open his mouth. "Merlin's pajamas…He's getting a fever, and we can't stop the bleeding!"

Professor Slughorn hobbled over. His left foot was dragging along on the ground, and he winced every time he put too much weight on it. Out of his chest pockets, the fat, balding man took out a few vials of potions. "Healing potions, anti-venom potions, fever-cooling potions…" Harry strained his ears, but could no longer catch up with the professor's speech.

While Wood gulped down the potion, Harry saw Ginny running toward him.

"What happened?" Harry asked, as Ginny stopped in front of him, panting and gasping.

"The first to fifth-years." Ginny gasped out, holding onto Ron's shoulders. "Most of them are still in their dormitories!"


	2. Chapter 2

**This is the second installment of my continuation of Harry Potter and the Unexpected. **

**I've been wondering if I should have Voldemort killed by Harry eventually. Also, I think wizards, with magic protecting them, would not die from the Muggle infection itself. However, if they had been bitten and died later of other causes, they might be reanimated. The wizards (e.g. Oliver Wood) are suffering from other infections when they are ill after being bitten.**

**As this fic is in essence a continuation of another fic (see Chapter One's AN for more details), and the characters referred to zombies as "undead" in there, everyone knows what the zombies are. From Kingsley (who had killed the reanimated Colin Creevey in the previous chapter) Hermione, George, Oliver and Draco's experience, they also know how to dispatch one and some of the consequences of being bitten.  
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* * *

><p>Harry jumped to his feet. Would he be too late? Had the young children already been devoured, screaming for their mothers who would not be there?<p>

"Ginny, would you mind sweeping the school with me?" He asked, already checking if Luna, Anthony Goldstein, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbot and preferably another pair of Slytherins were there to help defend the common rooms of every house.

A girl who Harry recognized as Daphne Greengrass, a Slytherin 7th-year ran over to him, the dark-skinned Blaise Zabini following. Harry turned to face them as the two skidded to a halt in front of him, ashes from the funeral pyre staining the hems of their green-and-silver robes.

Harry got to his feet when they seemed to be able to catch their breath again. "You going to join us to sweep the school for those…uh…things?"

They nodded and Daphne spoke. "Most of the people in our house are still in the dungeons. They'll run out of food and water."

Harry studied them. He knew from Goyle that the Greengrasses were one of the Slytherin pureblood families that did not side with Voldemort, while Blaise Zabini was quite critical of Voldemort's policies and wouldn't try to lead him into a trap.

The six grouped together in front of him. When Harry inspected them and listened to the moans outside, trying to estimate exactly how many of the cannibalistic undead were lurking around, he quickly decided that just six newly made adults wouldn't really stand a chance.

Harry headed over to Angelina and Alicia, who were hovering protectively above the sleeping and noticeably more peaceful Wood. "We'll need to get the younger students out of the common rooms and clean out the school. Would you mind coming with me?"

He figured he'd just jump straight to the point, as the students wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. Fortunately, Angelina and Alicia seemed to agree with him as they jumped to get Lee Jordan and maybe some more people.

* * *

><p>Hermione looked over the small squad now standing in front of her, smoothing down their robes, taking out their wands and changing into more suitable footwear for the occasion. Angelina and Alicia had used a changing spell to get into their more fitting and less loose Quidditch robes, even managing to summon their own and Wood's brooms.<p>

Blaise Zabini and Malfoy (who had volunteered for some unfathomable reason) were also in their Quidditch robes, holding their Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones in their right hands.  
>The Hufflepuff students had sustained the heaviest losses - most of those who weren't fourth year or under were either too heavily wounded to continue or too busy healing each other. Only two boys and girls were free to join them.<p>

The large group of people were now dressed in more comfortable and tight clothes, and Harry noticed with some surprise that the group included Marietta Edgecombe, who had betrayed the DA back in Harry's fifth year.

"I'm not doing this for Dumbledore's Army," Marietta said when Harry asked her, "I'm just doing it for the younger kids."

Harry was a bit curious as to why she would willingly join her former fellow teammates, but he decided to simply leave the issue for now. After all, zombies were still out there, lurking and possibly trapping the children.

* * *

><p>"Hermione, do you have any idea on where we are going?" Ron whispered. While Hermione was equipped with the cloak, a convenient layer between her and the slavering undead, Ron could only pray to Merlin, God, Jesus, Buddha, and whatever deity may or may not exist that the zombies were too short to grab his dangling legs.<p>

Hermione slowed; Ron could see the pair of feet falter in their steps. They turned around, and she replied, "We're going to the Hufflepuff common room first."

Harry was taking the lead, riding on Wood's Nimbus Two Thousand. Blaise Zabini was right behind, not as good as making the sharp turns in the corridors as Harry, but on a better broom. The others walked between them and Ron, who was guarding the rear, his wand out.

They turned and dived down the staircase, slowing down to avoid crashing into the rails before swerving.

At the foot of the staircase, they were treated with a grisly sight. The shambling former humans were gathered in the corridor and masticating on their new victim greedily and loudly. Harry grimaced at the sound of blood being slurped up.

"Holy shit." Blaise exclaimed, hearing a bone being snapped. The victim whimpered, too weak from blood loss to escape. What little blood in Malfoy's face drained away, making him impossibly pale. Marietta looked slightly green, while Terry raised his wand.

Harry asked, "What do we do now? Do we try to fly over them or kill them all?"

Hermione pushed to the front. "I say we all get on brooms and try to get across silently. With any luck, they won't notice us."

Malfoy snorted. "We'll probably have to leave someone behind. Who can carry four people at once, anyway?"

Harry resisted the urge to transfigure him into a ferret again. "We could carry one person across at a time, and come back for another person."

Anthony and Cho nodded wordlessly, getting on their Cleansweep Elevens with Marietta getting behind Anthony. Hermione got onto Ron's broom, and Padma sat onto Ginny's broom. However, Malfoy and Blaise whispered to each other, and they got off their brooms.

"Um, Potter?" Zabini asked, and Harry could tell he was carefully wording his ideas. "I was thinking if we should just blast them into bits. There aren't any other of those things around, and we could remain safe if we just stayed here and took care of them."

Harry considered the idea, then looked at the ceiling of the corridor in front of them. Some of the undead could easily grab hold of a person's legs and drag them to their death. If they followed Blaise Zabini's idea, they probably wouldn't have to risk being too close to those things.

Terry Boot spoke. "I think Blaise has a point. I know proper Quidditch stance usually has the rider's legs tucked in, but I don't think anyone who doesn't play Quidditch would be able to do that without falling off. The zombies could easily grab us or even the broom itself and make us fall. If we…eliminated them beforehand, we wouldn't have to deal with them again."

Harry nodded, then turned to his classmates. "You know what to do, just blast their damn heads off their shoulders."

They took out their wands, ready to kill the filth that was polluting their school, when Malfoy suddenly waved his wand and cast a spell that was undoubtably dark. Harry had a brief but unpleasant flashback to Rookwood murdering Fred as he glanced at the carnage.

The marble stand of a suit of armor had shattered, littering the corridor with shards. Portraits shrieked as blood, bits of flesh and the black sludge splattered the canvas and the walls. Corpses that were now headless were blasted all the way to the other end of the corridor, their upper torsos also reduced to a pulp, heads reduced to liquid and shards of bone mingling with broken marble.

"What the hell, Malfoy?" Ron asked, while Hermione and Ginny, keeping their heads, was administering Anti-Nausea charms to the witches. Zabini stood, his mouth agape, while Harry struggled to find his voice.

Malfoy shrugged and cleaned away most of the gore silently with a _Scourgify_. He simply ignored Ron, as if he wasn't important enough to waste time on.

Harry decided not to dwell on it any longer. After all, if they had decided to kill the cannibals one by one, there was some chance that one could evade capture and bite someone as they went past. From an objective view, Malfoy had managed to kill them all quickly and thoroughly, but wading through gore was not Harry Potter's favorite pastime.

* * *

><p>Zacharias Smith ran back to his common room, hiding in his dormitory and moving the tables and chairs against the door, while using a secure <em>Colloportus<em> he saw Madam Hooch use on the portraits - and the cannibals came. They were bumping against walls and portraits, trying to get at the people inside, and clawing at whatever seemed to be containing a human. The moans…oh Merlin, the _effing_ moans. They penetrated the students' ears, making the first- and second-years bawl with fear, and froze the others in their tracks.

Zacharias could no longer bear it. He knew the most accomplished wizards and witches were all in the Great Hall, and he would stand better chances of survival there. Madam Hooch had been dismayed when he pushed past the third-years who were holding out their wands with bravado, clambering over the bookshelf and sofa to push through the empty canvas and run to the stairwell. But none of them could stop him. He was the oldest and largest student, by a wide margin, and Madam Hooch was too busy securing the makeshift barricade to catch him in time.

He had almost got up the stairs when the flesh-eating things intercepted him. He sprinted back, trying to outstrip the undead, but he was out of breath - the Hufflepuff Quidditch team was disbanded at the start of the year and he hadn't been doing any exercise since. He was doomed, he knew it. He could only try and stun as many of them before they overwhelmed him. Or, he could try going to the Slytherin common room, but they probably won't let him in.

Zacharias staggered back to the canvas, about to murmur the password when he noticed the portrait was empty. He kicked it, trying to force it open when bony hands clutched his shoulders. He spun around, his fist drawn back and about to strike.

He screamed in terror as a vacant stare met his eyes, and gray skin rippled as jaws opened to an impossible angle, the chipped teeth getting closer and closer, until they sunk into his cheek. He kicked out, bringing it down as it ripped a chunk of flesh away. Another creature stumbled over the first, sinking its fangs into his ankle. He screeched and kicked vainly at its forehead with his other foot, the others also crowding around him, stepping over each other to get at his flesh as they pulled him up, biting into everywhere within reach.

Kicking, punching and flailing, he managed to rip his limbs free, but teeth found his scruff and sunk in, Zacharias trying to tear free but too weak, not even able to make much sound, slumping backward, once again being pounced upon, pinned against another creature, feeling one bite tear away four of his fingers of his left hand, his calf shredded, hearing the things rending his own flesh, slurping up his blood, snapping his bones, breaking limbs out of their sockets…

He felt an impossibly loud crack from behind, and all feeling disappeared.

Just as his sight turned black, he saw an explosion of red mist and meat splatter the corridor. The creatures' bodies were thrown from him, like worthless toys tossed by a child with a tantrum. He could see upper bodies being obliterated into bloody mist, and the rest pulped in the same split second.

* * *

><p>Harry opted to scout ahead, his back almost brushing the ceiling as he looked for any undead that didn't realize they were dead twice already. He was also looking for who was the victim.<p>

What he saw almost turned his stomach, but he had already seen enough death and destruction to stay almost impassive. He noticed a tuft of blond hair not stained with blood.

Zacharias Smith. He had probably been trying to escape when he was caught. His legs were a mess of bone splinters, liquified flesh and blood. Four severed fingers lay by a bloody hand, both disconnected from the rest of the body. Surprisingly, there wasn't as much torso wounds, as he had probably went down fighting. Through the hole in his cheek, Harry could see his teeth, clenched tight from pain.

But what unnerved him most was the unnatural position of his mouth. A gray finger had lodged into the corner, pulling it open and forcing it into a grotesque leer, almost looking like a strange smile.

"Scourgify." Hermione shakily whispered, watching the blood and flesh disappear. It felt wrong, as if they were desecrating Smith's memory by cleaning the corridor.

Harry pointed his wand at the dead bodies, having been Summoned into a grotesque trash pile, and silently set them aflame with a non-verbal Incendio. The rest of the rescue party stood silently, soot staining the hem of their robes, but nobody bothering to do anything.

After their vigil, Malfoy walked closer to Harry. He tensed, about to raise his wand again, but Malfoy didn't seem hostile.

"There's no zombies back there." He pointed further down the corridor. "But we need to see if any got up the stairs."

Harry nodded, deciding to use the Marauders' Map, hoping it would also show zombies. He turned to a corner, making sure nobody was following him, and took out the innocuous blank parchment. He tapped his wand to it, murmuring, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought of Sirius, and the other marauders. Was Lupin still alive?

A neat map unraveled, and Harry instantly noticed a cluster of dots marked "zombie" moving ever so slowly toward the Entrance Hall. He knew he would have to act fast, if he didn't want to have them all caught out, with no way of getting food, and the people inside doomed to either dehydrate or get torn apart trying to escape.

Harry scanned the map quickly, but fortunately there were no more hordes, as all of them were shambling toward the hall - where most people were. _Shit_, he thought, knowing it would be impossible to stop the zombies before they managed to trap everyone else inside. He could only hope the charms held, but as of lately hope wasn't really working.

He wanted to head back to the hall now, but he wanted to check something else first. He scanned the Great Hall, finally relaxing as he saw the dots marked Moony and Nymphadora Tonks safely tucked in the middle of the hall. "Mischief managed," Harry whispered shakily, watching as the map faded into an innocuous piece of old parchment.

They got on their brooms - it was the best way to avoid being grabbed by the occasional corpse that had just reanimated. Zabini was taking the lead, Ginny following him and Terry Boot trailing right behind. Harry had decided to stay at the back with Ron and Hermione.

Ron almost rammed into a wall while turning as he talked to Hermione (who was clinging to his back). Everyone else were navigating with various degrees of difficulty, as some people were on the old Cleansweep 6s from the broom closet, and only a few had ever received actual flying training past the first year. Terry was managing fine, but Marietta was falling behind, the rest of the people also slowing to keep formation. Her broom was behaving erratically, jolting to the left if Marietta moved her left hand, suddenly dropping or rising until Luna decided to use _Incarcerous_ to bind the two brooms together.

A large group of people were standing at the end of the corridor, and one glance revealed they were no longer living. Flayed skin hung off in strips and waved as they shambled toward the door, scrabbling at the wood and gouging out splinters, not even flinching as they dug into the skin. The doorknob was mainly ignored, save for the occasional grabbing hands.

_They don't have enough intelligence to use a doorknob_, Harry noted, deciding not to risk splattering the black sludge that was probably a concentration of the virus all over the wall and door. Maybe body-binding them and then burning them would also work?

Ron shifted closer to Harry, Hermione gripping Ron's waist harder as he moved. "Mate, what do you say about this?" The redhead whispered over the undead crashing against the door and moaning.

Harry leaned over. "If we just Body-Bind them, and then burn them, what's the odds of that?" He replied, hoping Ron had managed to hear him over the crack of something in the distance. He hoped it was just another splinter instead of a bone, but neither was reassuring in the long run. He knew the zombies didn't seem to feel pain, and they could squeeze through if they pushed hard enough.

Hermione nodded, hardened resolve in her eyes. Harry noticed she was determined not to let the odd ghoul take her by surprise and show her up again, as this time she very well may be killed for all her troubles. She whispered the incantation, smiling as the zombie's limbs snapped rigid together, and it fell over, knocking over a few others.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron yelled, lifting a zombie too close to the door and slamming it against the wall. It hit headfirst, crumpling to the floor, leaving a trail of black ooze after it. Angelina did the same, except she used the zombie as a club and knocked away several others before ramming it into the floor, brain leaking out onto the floor, a grotesque mixture of rotting flesh and fresher blood.

A large heap of zombies, either bound with invisible ropes or already killed, lined the corridor. Most of them were dead or frozen solid, and Ginny raised her wand at the pile, setting it afire and lighting the whole corridor with the red glow.

Suddenly, a silhouette got up and shambled toward the group. Harry, standing at the front, was only a few feet at most from the burning zombie. In his haste, he had forgotten the most important rule of survival: do not lower your wand until the threat is eradicated.

He fumbled for his wand, but he could now smell the overwhelming smell of ash - he could only see the flames lick at his robes - he could see the gaping mouth and the saliva touch the flame and erupt in smoke - he staggered backwards but tripped. It reached down, about to grab him and take a chunk out of him.

Someone shouted. "Everte Statum!" Harry could hear Ron, Hermione and many others yelling their incantations, but the person had been faster, louder and apparently closer. The zombie folded as the spell hit it in its stomach, knocking it right into the flame. It never recovered.

A pale hand reached down and grasped Harry's, the strong grip picking Harry up off the floor. Harry's face burned, as he knew his blunder could easily have killed someone. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice harsh after inhaling the smoke.

He almost jumped when he recognized the familiar voice. "You saved my arse twice." Draco Malfoy said matter-of-factly, lacking his familiar drawl or sneer. Instead, he sounded quite grateful, for a person talking to their mortal enemy.

They went on their brooms again, looking at the charred remains, still smoldering and glowing red like coals. Harry briefly wondered about their past lives, but quickly stopped as his thoughts soon spiraled to their final thoughts. He felt as if he had violated their final memories, for some reason.

The gore quickly faded as Alicia cast a cleaning charm. Ashes were graying, and Terry Boot opened the door with a discreet Alohomora. They dismounted and walked into the hall, trying to ignore the people looking at them as if they had grown ten more heads.

Everyone was covered in soot and dirt, sweaty from the heat of the fire, and weary after the flight. They had, after all, spent the whole night and morning fighting Death Eaters and undead.

Conjuring a bowl and filling it with water, Harry splashed his face with the cool liquid, until his skin felt cleaner, and he sunk his forearms into the bowl. The water turned gray with ash, and Harry vanished the contents, refilling it and washing himself again.

He was about to remove his jacket and crawl into the sleeping bag Professor McGonagall had conjured when Hermione ran over, still disheveled with the hints of a hasty Glamor Charm on her face. She raised her wand and pointed it at the door.

"Hermione?" Harry muttered groggily. Had the zombies come in? Was Voldemort attacking with the few Death Eaters he still had? He jumped to his feet, his sleepy mind reeling from the sudden movement. _Get a hold of yourself, Harry._ He thought to himself, reminding himself to sleep before he passed out or died of exhaustion.

He missed what she had said, but something white and wispy came out of her wand and went right through him. He turned, watching a silver otter run away, disappearing through the door. Were the Dementors attacking?

She sat back down, tucking her wand into her handbag. "I've sent a message to each of the Houses. They'll be building their barricades and locking the doors any moment now. Ron says he'll bring some people to block the entrances."

For a moment, Harry was tempted to join, but he was practically dead on his feet, and he quickly removed his jacket and shoes.

He snuggled up in his sleeping bag and fell asleep within moments.

**I'm not going to focus on any particular pairings. You could always write your own shipping stories based on this fic, but I won't digress from the main storyline as I don't write romance anyway, and I'm not going to move the rating up because I'll have to add more mature stuff to make it bearable.**


	3. Chapter 3

**As usual, a standard Fanfic disclaimer applies.**

Tom Riddle glared hatefully at the back of Potter. The bloody brat…as least Malfoy's kid had still helped him get the Death Eaters into the school. What good was it, anyway? Severus Snape had planned Dumbledore's death with the senile bat. And the icing on the cake was that nobody from the Order had died, but that idiot Rowle had accidentally killed Gibbon, a fine young Death Eater that could have replaced the elder Malfoy should the need arise.

He'd known he should have kept a closer eye on Severus anyway. He had spent far too much time with Dumbledore, and had probably become weak and let the old fool sway him. Maybe he should have let Lucius Malfoy also apply for a job at the school. But Malfoy was also too soft, if his desertion during the final battle was any indication.

And the Crabbes and Goyles had also left. Granted, they were too stupid to be much help to both sides, but they had been in his inner circle, and held information about him. He didn't have enough Death Eaters left to carry out those plans anyway, he thought bitterly.

The Dark Lord was more worried about the Malfoys. He had trained Lucius and Draco Malfoy himself, and the two of them added together would no doubt kill him, especially now he was just an eighty-year old deformed and magically weakened by Dark Magic. It did corrode a person's magical core, especially when it was fed by the soul itself. Voldemort's tinkling with horcruxes had just sped up the inevitable decay.

They, on the other hand, were younger and physically stronger. He had not taught them the darker spells, fearing they would turn against him. In the long run, it had actually benefited them, as they hadn't suffered from the same magical and physical disrepair that would destroy him. He was hoist by his own petard, his grand plans all backfiring on him one by one. He had never foreseen that he would be sitting in rubble, weak and mortal, with only the Lestrange brothers, Travers and Rowle at his side.

He needed to get the Malfoys, however useless the elder or treasonous the younger may be, back on his side. While they botched quite a few operations, they were strong duelists, each of them able to take two Order members at the time. Even Narcissa could probably hold her own against Longbottom. The boy was no longer the inept idiot Malfoy and Bellatrix had faced in the Department of Mysteries, but an angry, brave and competent adult.

And a charmed Dark family heirloom could always help. Voldemort was now beginning to sorely regret burning all the bodies without taking the wands - Salazar knew how having a powerful wand turned traitor could hurt - and he couldn't really afford to have the few Death Eaters still faithful and alive wandless. He knew Lucius's walking stick had a special curse placed on it, as the wand had destroyed itself after being forcefully removed from that heirloom and used by a master he was not loyal to.

The Dark Lord had seen Malfoy's spawn using what was undoubtably a heirloom. The useless idiot had lost his own wand to Potter when the two blood traitors and the mudblood were accosted at the Manor. When he saw Malfoy last, a dagger, the hilt encrusted in diamonds and rubies and shaped like a snake's head, was in his belt as he ran up the stairs.

If all else failed, Voldemort could at least stab Potter if he got too close, and take his wand. But that was something he'd forgotten to plan ahead into, and he was paying the price. 

* * *

><p>Harry yawned, opening his eyes to stare up at the charmed ceiling, now punctured with holes from the giants the Death Eaters brought. From the look of the sky, he'd had been sleeping through the whole night and dawn, and he was surprised Voldemort (why avoid his name when he was already in the same room anyway?) had stayed put instead of attacking.<p>

He chanced a look in Voldemort's general direction. The once-leader of the Wizarding World was now huddled in the middle of fallen pillars, with a few men grouped beside him, wearing their Death Eater robes, their wands out. Harry made out the pale silver shimmer of a Shield charm around them, separating the Death Eaters and the Order members.

Making his way to Ron and Hermione, both of them awake and standing near the other members of the new Dumbledore's Army, Harry suddenly heard his stomach squirm for want of food. Damn it, he thought, reminding himself that the stench of the undead outside would probably relieve him of his appetite anyway.

Bill Weasley, from head to toe in protective dragon-hide leather, was looking out through a window. Fleur stood silently beside him, a hasty bandage on where a curse had grazed across her hand, but still pointing her wand through the broken glass. The stockier Charlie was at the door with his father, a pale but no longer dying Oliver Wood waiting by his side. Viktor Krum was talking to McGonagall, Gwenog Jones of the Holyhead Harpies standing beside him.

Harry felt his stomach rumble again as his heart pounded with excitement. He knew he was just running on pure adrenaline now, and he'd probably pass out when the rush ended. "Kreacher!" He called, hoping the poor house-elf hadn't been killed. They had forgone their mutual dislike long ago, the gap between them bridged by Hermione.

The old elf arrived with a loud crack, holding a meat-cleaver and looking distinctly alarmed. Black sludge was dripping slowly off the blade, landing on the floor as he reported to his master. "Master wanted to talk to Kreacher?" He croaked slowly, holding the other hand to the blade and vanishing the slime without a second glance.

"Would you get us a few sandwiches each? For me, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and three each for every one of the people they're talking to." Harry asked, hoping there was enough food left in the kitchens. He guessed there was, seeing as they hadn't even had dinner yet.

Kreacher left in a loud crack as he Disapparated. Harry noticed Oliver drinking a small vial of the anti-venom potion. The bandage on his shoulder was replaced by Katie, who conjured a jet of water and cleaned the bite marks tenderly, black sludge mingling with the blood and pus oozing out of the wound. Harry flinched; he ripped his gaze from the bloody mangled flesh and looked at Oliver's face.

Wood sat upright, stoic and expressionless. Even when Katie cut away some of the strips of flesh, he didn't show any pain. Maybe that came from years of playing against the Slytherin team, Harry mused but refrained from saying that aloud.

With a crack, a group of elves Harry couldn't recognize Apparated to his side, holding trays of pumpkin juice and ham sandwiches. They each had a penknife strapped to their waists with crude bits of string, Kreacher taking the lead and holding a tray full of biscuits.

Harry quickly munched down three full salmon sandwiches. He could have eaten a dragon, scales and all, in one sitting by now. The plates kept refilling, and he soon felt fuller than he had been since the hunt on Horcruxes had started.

Soon, all the Order members and Dumbledore's Army students had gathered around the trays, openly forgoing etiquette and devouring the sandwiches. The Death Eaters glanced hungrily at the trays, but none of them dared move. Harry wiped the crumbs from his face, reveling in the feeling of being full again. He said to Kreacher, "You could go back to the kitchens now. Make sure you get something to eat."

To his surprise, Kreacher smiled and said, "Kreacher will, master Harry, take care!" The elves all Disapparated with sounds of varying tone and volume, leaving the trays for snacks and lunch.

Harry was about to make his way to a window when he noticed two almost identical platinum-blond men huddled in a corner, far from the Death Eaters or the Order members. A third, he identified as Narcissa Malfoy, was sitting beside the younger, shorter-haired man.

They probably didn't even eat yet. Harry thought, taking in the disheveled appearances of Lucius and Draco Malfoy. The younger's hair had grown somewhat longer, his face even more pointed and defined. He noticed a stubble on the lower half of the Slytherin's face, almost a duplicate of the one on his father's. Lucius's hair, however, was grayer.

Both Malfoys raised their wands and Harry tensed. He knew Draco Malfoy had proved himself trustworthy, but Lucius was a high-ranking Death Eater and would have killed him in the Department of Mysteries without a thought. Gripping his own wand, Harry stepped closer to them, ready to defend himself or his friends if he had to.

Non-verbally, they each Summoned one sandwich, but instead of simply eating them, they handed their sandwiches to Narcissa Malfoy, who looked paler than the undead they had just faced. Draco carefully cut his sandwich into several bite-sized pieces with his wand, and levitated them into his mother's mouth.

Harry remembered Dumbledore's talk about the power of love. He had thought none of the Death Eaters were capable of it, up until now. The Malfoys had been looking for their son frantically when all hell broke loose again, with Neville slaying the final Horcrux, Nagini.

A moan sounded from outside, and Harry turned back to look through the window. He almost wished he hadn't, feeling sickened at the alarmingly familiar sight.

Three zombies had been closer to the castle when they had reanimated, and they had now converged upon a dead Gryffindor student, still holding his wand, and already having several bite on his neck, one with a shard of bone poking out. Another corpse was at his feet, its upper half charred and unrecognizable save for the Dark Mark on its forearm.

With horror, Harry recognized Jack Sloper, the replacement beater from his fifth year. While Sloper wasn't able to match the Weasley twins, he was nice enough and a decent person.

Just when he was about to blast the zombies into oblivion, he noticed a small pool of black sludge around the dead Death Eater's face. Some also dribbled from Jack's neck wound, mixing with the dark red blood. The pieces were adding up. Cold sweat dripped from Harry's forehead as the full implications of what had transpired hit him.

The Death Eaters had brought the disease into Hogwarts.

* * *

><p>FLASHBACK<p>

Lord Voldemort did not take blunders lightly. Nor did he suffer fools. Mulciber was one such fool, too stupid to monitor the Malfoys or Severus Snape closely as he'd been instructed. Instead, he'd let Severus disappear to Merlin knows where, and Lucius had gone off to a dodgy bar in Knockturn Alley. He had to beat a hasty retreat after a full group of Muggleborn wizards in hiding had retaliated with Dark curses they had probably learned from a careless Death Eater.

"You have displeased me," Voldemort stated, "and such behavior will have to be punished." He laughed and raised the wand Ollivander had made for him as Mulciber shivered. "Crucio."

Mulciber shrieked, and the Dark Lord smirked maliciously. He had keyed his own Cruciatus to force the victim to scream like a puny little girl, causing considerable discomfort in the victim's throat, and taking over all control of the victim.

The man writhed, thrashing and kicking at the nonexistent enemy, losing control of his bowels and soiling himself. The others guffawed and cheered in excitement. Ripping through his robes to ease the boiling sensation in his blood, Mulciber suddenly spasmed violently, jerking like a puppet, and stiffened.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful," the dark wizard on his throne continued, as if the spell had not been cast, "and he will give you a chance to redeem yourself. Are you worthy, Mulciber?"

The rigid man on the floor gasped out, "F-forgive me, my Lord, forgive me…" It took a few attempts, but he managed to pull his muscles together enough to assume a kneeling position, facing the floor.

The snake-like man jerked his chin toward the man below, and said, "Bring the results of our experiments up, Lucius and Draco. I am up to some entertainment today."

The Malfoys went to the securely locked room at the back of their meeting hall. After many moans and commotion, the two men came back with a cage levitated in the air. The people locked inside groaned and banged against the bars, rattling the metal. One reached at the man on the left, who sent a silver shield against the bony hand, pushing it back into the cage.

They reached the middle of the room, dropping the cage unceremoniously beside Mulciber, who was sniveling and begging for mercy. He scrambled away from the cage, but one wave of Voldemort's wand and he was bound in ropes, and levitated against the cage. The pale, snake-like figure released Mulciber, who collapsed and landed on the floor.

"My lord, please, my lord, forgive me, please, don't, don't make me, help me, NO!" Mulciber blubbered incoherently as the men inside the cage reached at him, almost grabbing him as he staggered away on unsteady feet. Both Malfoys retreated to the back of the crowd, no longer important enough to stay near the Dark Lord.

Voldemort pointed his wand at his servant, and quickly Imperiused him, forcing him to raise his arm. "Go on, pet him, he won't bite…" He cooed, everyone cackling at his pun as one of the caged men grabbed Mulciber's outstretched arm and did exactly as his Lord said.

Mulciber screamed, a new bite mark added to his Marked forearm. He drew his arm back, falling to the floor, making no attempt to do anything. "Get up, Mulciber. You are not a baby, are you? Or are you soft, like the weaklings that call themselves the Order?"

The man got up, clutching his arm and cringing as his Master lifted the curse. "You have been punished, but now you will redeem yourself." It was a statement, not a question. "And your role will be much more special, I can assure you."

With just a hasty _Episkey_, Mulciber followed the others out. He knew better than to attempt revenge against his Lord, the Master of Death, and skilled Legilimens, after all. 

* * *

><p>Harry winced as the memory of that scene coursed back through him. His scar lay dormant, but in his mind he imagined the splitting pain in his forehead. He had not remembered the vision as clearly as he did now, most of the words and images just a confusing blur then.<p>

Sweat dripped down his brows as he remembered Mulciber being bitten. The man was a Death Eater, and apparently a cruel one, but Harry couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the bitten man. The Death Eater must have been killed by Sloper, but he'd also infected and killed the boy in the process.

Why didn't Sloper reanimate? Harry wondered, doubting if he could put the boy down for good. He had seen Hermione deal with the witch, but they didn't know each other anyway. And he knew he was too big-hearted for his own good, as Snape had once pointed out.

One zombie looked up as the voice of one Order member drifted into the air. It had been raining in the night, and the corpses were soaked. Harry flinched as he saw a few fat raindrops land on a chunk of flesh in the zombie's jowls, merging with the blood and landing on its feet as it opened its mouth, letting the meat land with a soft plop on the body.

It moaned, making Harry's skin crawl as hundreds of undead groaned softly in unison.


	4. Chapter 4

**A few OCs will appear. I will need the reviewers to decide which family will Harry stay with after he leaves Hogwarts. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks will be alive, as they are going to be a part of the plot.**

Harry quickly called Ron and Hermione over. They both grimaced at the dead face staring up at them. All the others were now moving to their window, moaning in an uncanny unison. A few were almost within reach of the walls, held back by periodic blasting charms from students.

Harry and Ron shared a glance. Some of the zombies had made it past the makeshift barricades into the school already, if the moans just outside the Great Hall were any indication. Most of the students or Order members were bone-weary after the previous day, and Harry doubted they would be alert enough to make it past the zombies.

A large gray owl flew into one of the windows, a letter strapped to its knee. Moaning and shuffling, a few zombies followed it, their arms raised, reaching for the bird. The owl barely escaped the hand of one, before diving into the hall.

Slughorn inspected the owl, untying the parchment. None of the zombies had injured the owl, and the professor let go of the bird, letting it drink from a cup McGonagall conjured. The gathering dead continued to shamble forward, their moans harmonizing.

Out of one window, a jet of light shot into the grotesque crowd, blasting a few corpses into rotting chunks of flesh and bone. The rest were all knocked off their feet, landing in what resembled a decomposing mosh pit.

Slughorn cleared his throat and announced, "The Slytherins have sent a letter. They have been besieged and are requiring assistance from us."

Harry looked at the students. Most seemed to be reluctant, except for the group of Slytherins that had returned with Slughorn. Neville opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Ron jumped to his feet first.

"We can't wait. There's nobody else who would help them." Ron said, already taking out his wand. Instinctively, Harry and Hermione followed him to the door. The Slytherins and various others gradually followed. About half had brooms strapped onto their backs and a few were in tattered Quidditch robes.

Hermione instructed the small group, "If you don't have a broom, pair up with someone who has one. Aim for the zombies's heads and use a blasting curse. Try not to let anything grab your legs. Anyone who plays Quidditch would know to tuck their legs in, so remember that. Even if you don't play, it would help if you lean forward and wrap your legs around the back of the broom. Grip the broom with one hand so you don't fall."

The students nodded, some of them dripping sweat from their eyebrows. One by one, they got onto their brooms. Harry inspected them carefully, making sure none of their clothing was hanging off the brooms, or potentially getting tangled. It was around five minutes before Harry kicked off on his own broom, followed by a myriad of others.

Tense, they went into the again-infested hallways. Harry led his group dashing through the corridors, avoiding puddles of blood and corpses as they zoomed down the stairs, Harry grimacing as he remembered what he had seen there, until they reached the smoldering pile of blackened bodies.

A stocky boy Harry vaguely remembered as Harper and Millicent Bulstrode were facing them, following by a group of green-and-silver clad students. They were all holding their wands out, desperate, and aiming them at any remotely humanoid object.

Stepping around the bodies, Bulstrode made a beeline straight to the stairwell. Hermione blasted the ashes away, allowing the Slytherins to walk through a clean path. The students followed gingerly, waiting behind until Ron checked that the hallways were clear.

It turned out that most of the Slytherins had brooms of their own, and these students carried the others, safely out of reach from the walking dead. Zabini scouted for the students, casting _Lumos _into the shadows periodically and blasting stray undead into bits.

Harry was about to blast a lone figure when he noticed the person was holding a walking stick. The wizard was dressed in Slytherin robes, and as far as Harry knew, zombies did not hold things that they couldn't eat.Approaching cautiously, he managed to corner the stringy figure, and immediately recognized Theodore Nott.

Ron inched closer to Harry. "He might be a Death Eater. Be careful." The redhead warned Harry. Harry nodded and pointed his wand at Nott's throat. Nott's eyes widened, but Hermione quickly Disarmed him before he could raise his wand. Ron caught the Slytherin's wand, pocketing it.

"Have you been bitten?" Harry asked, trying to monitor Nott's hand movements. The Slytherin nodded, and Harry's stomach sank. He was probably too late.

Nott replied quietly, "Snape cut my leg off after I got bit. Are you going to kill me?"

For a moment, Harry considered putting Nott out of his misery. But then he remembered the Death Eaters had known the most about the zombies, and Snape probably knew amputating the limb would stop the infection. The Potions master had been right about some things before.

He decided to levitate Nott onto a stretcher and then bind him to it. Harry told everyone else that it was just a precaution, but he had a nagging suspicion that Nott's Death Eater roots would cause trouble. _Better safe than sorry_.

The ragtag bunch arrived at the Great Hall, Percy opening the door for the students. McGonagall registered Theodore Nott's presence with just a raised eyebrow, to her credit. Then all hell broke loose.

The Death Eaters, did a double take at the boy on the stretcher before they suddenly attacked. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the nearest Order member, didn't even have time to aim his wand before red light struck him in the stomach and he collapsed screaming in agony.

One man turned toward Dennis Creevey, sending a green flash into the boy's shocked face. Dennis sunk slowly to the floor, his face still a mask of surprise, but now lifeless and frozen. A red jet was deflected by the Death Eater's Shield charm, rebounding back and knocking the unlucky caster unconscious. Slughorn immediately dragged the student out of the way.

Ron quickly sent a Stunner at the man, but the spell dissolved harmlessly against the translucent silver shield the Death Eater conjured. So did a number of hexes that hit his shield.

Michael Corner ducked a jet of light and retaliated with one of his own that destroyed the shield. Terry Boot continued with another curse that blasted the man right in the stomach, its sickening green light alarming Harry.

Staring back at Terry for a split second, the wizard folded and collapsed to the marble, his wand dropping limply from his hand. Voldemort reached for the wand, picking it up and blasting a large hole in the wall. He raised his wand, aiming at Harry.

LINE

_9:00 PM, The day before the outbreak, Birmingham, England_

Michael stared in horror as the medics carried the mangled remains of what was once a human onto an ambulance. The reporter continued, "The suspect did not respond to any warnings, or hits to below the neck. Joseph Bloggs, the only armed person available on the scene, finally managed to stop the suspect by shooting him in the head."

He knew the man who'd bitten and scratched the other. It was the temporary live drummer in his band, Piers Polkiss. Right after the rather successful concert, when they were signing records and taking photos, Piers had withdrawn to the toilet and came back acting weirdly. And he attacked the man who tried to let Michael sign his _British Steel_ record.

The poor fan bled to death, even while Piers devoured him. Being in the same room, Mike called Joseph, a security guard, over to subdue Piers. What he didn't expect was that the drummer didn't respond to anything apart from his prey until a shot to his head put him down for good.

He needed to get back to his house in Birmingham. It wasn't the biggest property he had in England, but it was the most secure and in the same neighborhood as his bandmates. There weren't many neighbors, which counted as a plus for it. Mike had a feeling it was not an isolated incident, what had turned Piers into a cannibal.

He was going to get away from the upcoming crisis of what the news called the "mad cow" mutant outbreak in China, and he knew lower population densities decreased chances of getting infected. It felt like the zombie movies his friends enjoyed.

_Zombie? _The thought suddenly struck him. Piers scratched and bit his victim, he didn't respond to voices or normal hits, only a bullet to the brain killed him, he moaned, and he was shambling…definitely zombie. At least his bandmates had some sort of guns, which was a relief in regards to their survival.

The police quickly roped off the area, Piers's body taken away for further examination, and the bitten man's body taken to the hospital. Mike was going to the pharmacy for medicine, as he knew the hospitals would soon be ridden with infected people.

He quietly left through the door to the car park, making a silent to-do list of what to buy. The musician was a survivalist, refilling his stores of ammunition, food, other supplies and medicine at every hint of trouble, but he could have still missed something.

Buckling up into the driver seat of his Jeep, he set his microphone stand and leather jacket down inside the boot of his car, his new guitarist Patrick getting in beside him, a wiry, long-haired silhouette of the bassist Cliff settling in after him.

The guitarist stayed silent, setting his guitar case between his legs while Cliff followed suit. Patrick was normally the chattiest member of the band, which was some cause for concern. Being no stranger to blood and gore, Michael was mainly unaffected by the actual scene, and his mind was still clouded with shock.

He backed out of the space and followed the Porsche belonging to his other guitarist Kirk into the streets that led them to the army surplus stores and supermarkets. They were flanked by the three Harley-Davidson motorcycles and one bicycle of the other band's members.

They parked into the carpark, disappearing into the mall. After a few hours, they emerged again, their backpacks almost full as they packed their haul into the boot. Mike had gotten protective gear and medicine from a pharmacy, remembering he would have to deal with infectious zombies. At least he wouldn't have to worry about groceries for a while if he had been wrong.

The makeshift convoy set off for their home, prepared for the crisis and ready to fight back.

**I think the OCs and wizards would eventually meet in the later chapters. Will that be alright or too contrived?**


End file.
